Noir
by milomeepit
Summary: Based off of the game Play By Heart. As an assassin, part of the Midnight Crew, it's your job to kill whoever you're pointed at. But what happens when you are assigned to kill someone you never thought possible?
1. Prologue

?: Prologue

"Git up, ya worthless runt."

 _A solid kick lands in your side, jerking you awake. You sit up to see a large, brutish Dersite scowling down at you. Your brain helpfully provides the name 'Hearts Boxcars' as you rise to your feet._

"What."

 _Your voice is flat. There's no lost love between the two of you, in fact, a hatred. One of those hatreds so intense and yet completely inexplicable. The tense silence stretches for several seconds before he speaks again._

"Boss wants to talk to ya. So ya better hurry up, worm."

 _He turns and walks away._

"... Well, good morning to you, too, big guy,"

 _You mutter disdainfully as you shrug a pinstriped waistcoat on over your white dress shirt. You exit your room and stroll down to the main chamber of the hideout, where Spades Slick stands waiting for you in all his greasy, violent glory._

"What took ya so long, kid? Time is money, ya knows."

 _He looks vastly unimpressed, so you decide to try and appeal to his sense of style._

"I was getting dressed. I mean, I didn't think you'd want me to show up in my damned birthday suit or something."

 _Spades rolls his eyes, but apparently deigns to let it slide as he begins his spiel._

"So, ya know the Felt. I want you to use some of yer... 'special skills' to get rid of Big Green's right-hand man."

 _You shuffle your feet slightly._

"And who, pray tell, would that be, exactly?"

 _Spades scowls even more than usual._

"That damn kid. You know, the one with the dark hair? Glasses and a stupid expression?"

 _You pause._

"Yeah... so you want me to..."

 _He huffs._

"Off 'im! Cut 'is throat, shoot 'im, not like I give two shits. I just want 'im dead!"

 _You take a deep breath._

"Got it, boss."

 _You turn to go back to your room so you can gather up some equipment for the job._

"By the way..."

 _Spades' voice floats down the hall after you._

"If you fuck this up, I'll come after the both of you little shits myself."

 _Your breath catches in your throat as you continue walking. Your name is Dirk Strider, and you have just been assigned to kill Jake English._


	2. Chapter 1

**Dirk: Return to room**

 _You make your way back down the hallway, mind reeling. Kill Jake? can't possibly...you don't want to! Your footsteps echo loudly through the hall. Reaching the vault-like door of your room, you slip inside._

"God **damn** it!"

 _You slam a fist into the door in the pain in your hand, you turn and gaze at your rather bare room. Your closet door is half-open on the other side of the room, and several items litter your desk and the shelf above your bed._

 **Dirk: Inspect items**

 _Several bottles of vodka adorn the shelf over your bed. A smile flickers across your face as you remember acquiring them from your regular waterhole, nestled in the middle of town._

 _A switchblade rests on the desk. It's no katana, but under the circumstances, it'll do. You fold it up and stick it in the pocket of your dress pants._

 _On the floor there is a pile of- Jesus_ _ **fuck**_ _that's a lot of guns. You don't need that many guns. Nobody needs that many guns! But, there they are, in a huge unsafe pile on your floor. You pick up a small pistol, choosing the firearm that fits best in your hand, and slide it into your other pocket._

 _You walk over to your closet, which is full of dark trenchcoats. Most of these are practically identical. You pull out the closest one and put it on. Flicking up the collar, you exit the Midnight Crew's hideout._

 **Dirk: Seek info from locals**

 _You make your way down the streets of Lodan, scanning the people passing by from behind your shades. No one jumps out as someone you would grill for information. The late afternoon dips into evening, and you duck into the brightly-lit bar for a drink and some advice._

 _You look around at the mixture of carapacian and troll patrons. One carapacian sits behind a piano near the bar, playing a jaunty ragtime tune. You're the only visible human in the room, with the notable exception of-_

"Diiirky!"

 _A small smile appears on your face as the owner of the bar bustles towards you. A dark-skinned woman with dyed pink hair almost as light as your own, any time spent with Roxy Lalonde is a good time for sure._

"Heya, Rox. How's business tonight?"

 _The clingy fabric of her pink dress shimmers under the lights as she sweeps empty glasses and bottles up onto the tray in her hand with a practiced ease._

"Just fabu, Di-Strides! You know me, keepin' it real!"

 _Roxy fills a small glass with an amber liquid and slides it down the bar to you. You take a sip and resist the urge to wince at the burning taste that warms you down to your toes._

"Real boozed up, that is!"

 _She winks and walks back over to you, leaning against the bar. Her familiar voice soothes your edgy nerves, and you're about to ask her for some info when a loud crash from across the bar startles you both to look over at the door._

"What the **hell**?!"

 _Hearts Boxcars goes flying across the room, Die following him in hot pursuit. He slugs Boxcars again, blood spattering from the Dersite's mouth before he tackles Die. Die kicks him off and they roll across the room, knocking tables, chairs and people all over the place. Patrons cry out in protest and fear as Boxcars grabs a glass and pitches it at Die's face._

"Hey!"

 _The brawling pair pause and turn to look at Roxy, standing in front of them. She's much shorter than either would be standing, despite the huge heels she's wearing. With the feather in her hair, her bright pink feather boa and elbow-length black gloves, she doesn't exactly strike a menacing figure._

"Look, toots, howsabout ya just go back behind the bar and let me and the garden gnome deal this ourselves, yeah?"

 _Boxcar's voice is calm, friendly even. But you know that he's just made a mistake. You settle back in your chair, glad that Boxcars wouldn't be able to see you in your shadowy corner of the bar. Things could get pretty messy if he did here, away from Slick's strict watch on you two. Speaking of messy..._


	3. Chapter 2

**Dirk: ==**

"Not."

 _Roxy's voice drops from her usual bubbly chirp to a deep growl as she stalks towards the pair like a lioness stalking her prey._

"In."

 _She grabs Boxcars by the collar and drags him to him feet, shoving him into Die and knocking them both off-balance._

"My."

 _Both Die and Boxcars' arms are twisted behind them as she pushes them towards the door._

"Bar!"

 _They sprawl face-first on the pavement outside and Roxy waves at them cheerfully._

"Toodles! Enjoy your **date** , boys!"

 _She giggles and spins on her heel. She kicks the door shut behind her as she comes back into the bar to a smattering of applause. You watch her organizing a few of her employees to help her clean up the mess from the fight and get replacement drinks for those that were smashed or spilled in the fray. After a few minutes, satisfied her staff have it under control, she returns to your table, looking a little ruffled._

"Now, what were you sayin', Dirk?"

"I, um.. I was wondering if you knew the whereabouts of Jake En-"

 _Her plump lips twist in annoyance as she interrupts you._

"Dirk, we talked about this. I ain't gonna start helping none of you fellas. I don't want my bar turning into some gang warfare zone."

 _You sigh._

"Right, right. Sorry, Rox."

"Of cooourse... I do know somebody who could help you."

 _Roxy smiles, rising to her feet again._

"Follow me, Strider~!"

 _You raise an eyebrow as you stand._

"... Alright. I'm trusting you on this one, Lalonde."

 _She struts down to the other end of the bar, where a troll with long, curved horns sits talking to a human girl in a fedora and a long overcoat._

"Now, my motherfucking miraculous sister..."

 _The troll's voice is deep. He speaks slowly, with a very vagu_ _e air about him, like he could be distracted by a passing butterfly. His face is mostly covered in white grease paint. This (along with the faint but distinct smell of sopor slime around him) marks him as one of the infamous troll juggalos. Thankfully, you know from personal experience that this particular troll is a pretty mellow guy. Usually, anyway._

"... Ah, shit, man, I forgot what I was gonna be asking you."

 _He droops disappointedly, almost melting against the bar._

 _The girl smiles. With her creamy skin tone, rosy cheeks and large, intelligent blue eyes framed by ebony black hair, she almost looks like a porcelain doll; a modern Snow White. A young but successful private investigator, she also owns a small bakery on the edge of Lodan that serves customers delicious pastries and the local police force a safe haven when things get dicey._

"It's okay, Gamzee. I'm sure you'll get it eventually!"

 _She laughs, a throaty sound that seems like it should belong to a woman many years her senior. Despite this, it suits her somehow._

"Jaaney!"

 _Roxy pounces on her, sweeping her up into a huge. She then steps back a little so that you and Jane can see each other._

I'm suuure you two're already acquint- acquail- you know each other."

 _The party girl looks frustrated at herself for several seconds. You step towards her and put a reassuring arm over her shoulder, squeezing her lightly._

"Don't worry, Rox. You don't need big words to be one of the smartest people I know."

 _She smiled up at you and nods gratefully before vanishing into the thick of the bar again._

"Heyyy... I'll leave you be for now, Jane-sis, seeing as you got motherfucking company and all."

 _Gamzee slides off of his bar stool and picks up his drink, giving the two of you a big dopey grin before staggering off to find a table._

 **Dirk: Sit on the recently vacated seat**

 _You perch on the stool, feeling a little awkward. You're more of a shadowy booth kind of guy, personally, but you need to curry Jane's favour for now._

"How are you, Mr Strider?"

 _Jane greets you, sipping her drink- a tall glass of some bubbling bluish-pinkish liquid._

"Can't complain. Well, I could, but what would the use be, right?"

 _You shrug._

"And yourself, Miss Crocker?"

"Much the same. I did manage to make a decent souffle the other day, so that was a positive."

 _She smiles at you, her slight overbite giving her a mildly rabbitish appearance._

"So..."

 _You drum your fingers on the bar._

"I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of our mutual acquaint-"

 _You swap words out of a quiet respect for Roxy you know the two of you share._

"Mutual **friend** , Mr Jake English."

 _Jane purses her lips and regards you carefully, some of the warmth removed from her gaze now her guard is up._

"That entirely depends on what you're going to do with that information, Strider."

 _The thought occurs to you to be as vague as possible, or even outright lie. You dismiss it. Lying to Jane Crocker is a bad idea on all sorts of levels._

"Spades Slick wants me to kill him."

 _Jane's eyebrows raise and she opens her mouth, but you rush on without giving her a chance to respond._

"Me, I'm not so sure. I want to talk to him, make my own decisions. Screw what McStabby has to say."

 _The silence stretched between you both as Jane takes another sip of her drink, considering your declaration before responding._

"... Well, whatever the case, Mr English seems to be keeping a rather low profile at the moment. If you want to get to him now, you'll need to get into the Felt Manor."

 _You groan._ ** _Perfect_** _._

"However, Lord English himself isn't spending much, if any time, at home right now. He's been out roughing up some of his more mouthy storefronts."

 _Your ears perk. That increases your chances of sneaking in without ending up the latest smear on their too-green front lawn._

"From what I've been able to pick up, L.E. and Jake are going to be meeting up at the Umbra's annual gala on the edge of town at the end of this week. So you have a week to get to Jake and **talk** to him. Promise me you won't do anything else to him?"

 _Her eyes shine slightly and you realise that Jake may be more important to her on a personal level than she's letting on._

"Pinkie swear."

 _You say solemnly, offering your pinkie._

 _She hooks her pinkie around yours and smiles._

"Thanks, Janey."

"Take care, Dirk."

 _You slug back the rest of your drink and leave._


	4. Chapter 3

**Dirk: Find Jake**

 _You spend the night in a seedy motel, pouring over pictures and newspapers regarding the Felt, anything that could lead you to Jake without having to sneak into the mansion. The next morning, you hit the streets again._

 _Going across town, you find yourself standing down the street from the obnoxiously green monstrosity that is the Felt Manor. You wait in a nearby cafe for a few hours until a green car pulls out of the large guitar and shoots down the street. You catch a glimpse of several of the leprechauns- or are they gnomes or something? Who even knows!- as it speeds past, and you decide that it's now or never._

 _You sneak into the building and are immediately assaulted by the sound of hundreds of ticking clocks. God, you knew English had a thing for time, but this is just ridiculous. You sneak upstairs and see two doors, one slightly ajar. A body sways in and out of view, a body that you'd be able to pick from a mile away. You push the door open to see a raven-haired boy humming and dancing as he brushes his hair, eyes closed as his hips sway back and forth. You watch for a few seconds before clearing your throat._

 _He jumps and squeals a little, eyes flying open as he shakily thrusts the hairbrush in your direction._

"Wh-who's there!?"

 _You hold out your hands, palms-up._

"Whoa, whoa! Calm down, English, it's just me."

 _He pauses and lowers the hairbrush, laughing a little._

"You scared me, Dirk! What are you doing here? I thought you wanted to stay away from my father, remember?"

"I just saw him take off with some of the others. What, aren't I allowed to come visit a pretty boy?"

 _You both laugh, and Jake puts down the hairbrush and hugs you._

"Suck up."

"What, me? Never."

"So, what brings you my way?"

 _Your brain wheels for a few seconds as you try to formulate a response._

"I... I wanted to see if you wanted to go hang out somewhere. I... I need to talk to you. It's important."

 _Jake eyes you for several seconds, holding you at arm's length._

"... Well, alright! Where would you like to go?"

 _His cheery smile lifts your mood a little, despite the current circumstances._

"Eh, I figured we could just... walk around a little. Chill out, see where we end up, y'know?"

"Sounds positively splendid! Let me grab my jacket, and then lead the way, Dirk!"

 _He snickers._

"After all, it's not like you'd drag me into some alley and slit my throat, eh?

"Heh... of course not."

 _Your stomach drops. This may be even harder to do than you'd thought._


End file.
